


The Break In

by musicalgalaxy1000



Category: What We Do in the Shadows (2014)
Genre: F/M, Robbery, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-07
Updated: 2020-11-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 05:29:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27429472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/musicalgalaxy1000/pseuds/musicalgalaxy1000
Summary: Deacon takes care of an intruder and comforts a scared reader.
Relationships: Deacon Brucke/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	The Break In

**Author's Note:**

> I was halfway through writing this when the document crashed and I just a bit too disheartened to rewrite it for a while. So, sorry it's not my best quality stuff. Hope you enjoy it nonetheless : )

You were used to many different bumps in the night. A young vampire, a known torturer, and a dandy trying to keep them in line meant lots of ambient noise. At least Petyr was pretty quiet.

But hearing a loud crash from the downstairs kitchen didn’t sit right with you. _Did someone just kick the door in? Did they get locked out? And who’s gonna get a new door??_

You got up with a groan to assess the damages.

Deacon’s the most likely candidate for destroyed flat property. But he would have come to your window if he was locked out, and likely said something cheesy from the windowsill. “Romeo! Romeo!” He’d say before you explained you were Juliet in that situation. 

You were already halfway down the stairs before you realized: your flat mates would have called you if they were locked out. Or just fly in through one of their own windows. Either way, they wouldn’t bust through the door like that.

The guilty party was making even more noise and making his way into the living room. Usually the guys were super quiet, vampire stealth and all. As you reached the bottom of the steps you realized the problem.

The man in dark attire rummaging through every drawer in sight was definitely not Deacon. Or Vladislav. Or even Viago.

You froze.

The intruder locked eyes with you.

You ran back up the stairs, making no attempt to be quiet. _Shit. Shit! SHIT! What do I do? Was that a knife on him?! Shit!_

Your room was too far, you just knew it. You opened the first door you hoped held salvation.

The familiar face hanging in the door scrunched up at the intrusion. You’d never been happier to be waking Deacon up. He hissed in protest only for you to shove him aside and duck into the closet. 

“What the hell, Y/N?” 

“Someones trying to rob us!” you tried to whisper.

Maybe you were too loud. Maybe you had been too slow. A set of footsteps traipsed down the hall and stopped outside the door. Fuck.

Deacon jumped off his hanging perch and took a ready-stance: ready to fight and ready to protect you.

The door swung open.

The intruder did in fact have a knife, and they had it raised to strike.

Deacon acted all too calm and very cooly said “Oh, Y/N, you didn’t have to get dinner.” The robber’s expression twisted into confusion. And in that same moment, Deacon pounced.

He kicked the door closed behind him, keeping you away from the fight and from the potential blood bath. 

Your chest was tight with fear. _What if it had been a vampire hunter? No, he didn’t have any of the typical anti-vampire equipment. Just a knife. What if Deacon gets hurt?_

The grunts and curses you heard through the door gave you some assurance. Deacon could hold his own. 

_But what if Deacon hadn’t been here?_ Would you have fought off the robber yourself? Called the authorities in time? Too often you were reminded of your own mortality. Dating a vampire does that to a person, apparently. 

A hiss and a gasp signaled the end of the fight through the door.

Dinner, Deacon had said. You shuddered a bit knowing he was draining the intruder just outside the door. At least Deacon was pretty good about not getting blood everywhere when he ate. And he’d probably share this victim with the others later. 

When did your life get so crazy? You let out a breath that could pass as an awkward laugh.

The closet door opened, slowly this time. “Are you—” Deacon didn’t get to finish his question before you had him in a tight embrace.

“Thank you.” You’d kiss him if his lips weren’t still stained red. “Are you hurt at all?” you asked, looking him over for any gashes from the blade or burns if the robber had happened to be wearing silver.

“I’m fine. He was no match for me,” he boasted. “And you? Are you alright, Y/N?”

You nodded, “Yeah. I’m fine.” He could probably hear your racing heart slow with the knowledge he was unharmed. Having him in your arms helped calm your mind as well. As wild as it was to be used to casual murder, things just made sense when you were with Deacon. “I’m fine,” you repeated.

If your pulse was still a bit too quick, he didn’t say anything. He just held you tight for as long as you needed.


End file.
